


Proclivities

by whydoihavethiskink



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming of Age, Drugging, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Emetophilia, F/M, Laxatives, Omorashi, Premature Ejaculation, Scat, Scat Sex, Sex Work, Shitting on Penis, Soiling, Transactional Relationship, Vomiting, Wet Dream, both ends, emetics, messing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whydoihavethiskink/pseuds/whydoihavethiskink
Summary: A childish prank begins a journey of self-discovery for Ciel Phantomhive.





	Proclivities

Ciel had arranged the perfect humiliation for his cousin Elizabeth. Maybe it wouldn’t stop her from making him dance with her at parties, or stop her from being so embarrassing and flighty, but at least it would give him some private satisfaction.

He had arranged for Sebastian to slip a laxative into Elizabeth’s tea.

Ciel sipped his own oolong as he watched Elizabeth. It was delicious. His cousin plied herself with cream tarts, eating slightly more than was strictly ladylike. Ciel could not fault her for being hungry—likely, she was growing just as much as he was—but she should have had the decency to arrange for something in her own quarters beforehand, perhaps a charcuterie platter, instead of eating so many sweets. Tea was really just supposed to be a restorative snack between lunch and dinner, anyway.

Soon the tart was little more than crumbs; it was time for the next step of his plan.

“Care for a walk in the gardens, my lady?” Ciel asked. Elizabeth still thought formalities charming instead of a waste of time.

“Ooh, yes! Sebastian says the daylilies are lovely!”

Taking Elizabeth’s arm, Ciel led her down the garden path. Within five minutes, Elizabeth had broken away to look at a toad under one of the hedges. They proceeded through the winding paths in this fashion. Soon, Ciel observed Elizabeth wincing or holding her stomach when she thought he wasn’t looking. Ciel smirked. He had told Sebastian to use a drug which would cause plenty of cramps.

Eventually Elizabeth tugged his sleeve. “Perhaps we should return to the house.”

“But you haven’t seen the hothouse yet!” exclaimed Ciel. She must surely be desperate now. Perhaps she could endure it for the duration of this detour; perhaps she could not. Ciel would prefer the latter, but either way, his vindictive nature would be at least a little satisfied. He wished he had told Sebastian to hide with a camera to capture some of Elizabeth’s pained expressions.

They meandered towards the hothouse, as Ciel thwarted Elizabeth’s attempts to hurry, urging her to smell flowers and deliberately taking wrong turns. He pretended to be oblivious to her distress, even as she was all but doubled over with cramps.

A few feet from the hothouse door, Elizabeth bent double and moaned. A horrible blarting noise escaped from her nether regions, and the back of her dress grew a lump and then began to turn brown. Captive to her instincts, Elizabeth squatted and voided herself of all her liquid filth, as Ciel watched in vengeful joy and feigned horror.

“Elizabeth, my dear, I had no idea you were feeling ill! Can you walk? There’s a gazebo nearby, and you can rest there while I go find your maid.”

Sniffling, Elizabeth nodded. Ciel led her to the gazebo—she had to sit in the mess of her skirts!—and then went just far enough down the path to summon Sebastian.

“Lady Elizabeth has had a little accident,” he said, making no attempt to seem shocked or alarmed. Sebastian was in on it, after all. “Please find her maid and tell her that her mistress requires a new dress and suchlike underneath. She’s in the gazebo near the hothouse.”

Sebastian blurred away. In a few minutes, he returned, to find Ciel secretly watching Elizabeth relieve herself again, splattering the bushes near the gazebo with brown sickness.

“You are aroused by this,” observed Sebastian. “I thought you might be.”

“Is it that obvious?” said Ciel, words deceptively light.

“To humans? No. Your coat hides it. I can sense it through our bond.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope I would turn out _normal_ after what happened to me,” said Ciel, bitterly. “I should be grateful I’m not fond of little boys.” Elizabeth was his own age, and he hoped that she’d remain attractive to him once they were both grown.

“Coprophilia is far from unusual,” said Sebastian, watching, as Elizabeth’s maid ran up the path, carrying an armful of fabric. “It is rarely deemed acceptable, but it is not unusual. I have been serving humans for thousands of years, and this? It is not the first time I have done this.” He turned to face Ciel, grabbing him by the shoulders. “But you must not have me do this to Miss Elizabeth again for a very long time. She is flighty, but she is less stupid than she looks, and she would soon begin to suspect it. And with too much use of such drugs, she would become ill for real. Should you wish to do such a thing again, I can find a discreet and discerning prostitute who will probably be delighted to have a client who poses no risk of disease or pregnancy.”

Ciel gaped, speechless. “You would find me a woman who is not enslaved by some pimp?” he managed at last.

“Only the highest-class independent courtesans for a Phantomhive,” promised Sebastian.

“Find me one,” ordered Ciel, terror and resolution flashing behind his eyes. “One who won’t balk at being hired by a _boy_.”

“You won’t be a mere boy for much longer, you know,” said Sebastian. “You may not have noticed, but I’ve had to let your trousers down an inch. Soon we must put you in long pants.”

“Not before summer is well over, I hope.”

“Of course not. Perhaps for the Christmas season. I would even suggest waiting another year, perhaps two, but I would also have your colleagues and competitors take you seriously.”

“Next summer, make some of my suits with both short and long pants. If anybody must meet with me, I will wear the long ones, but otherwise I will be comfortable.”

“An interesting idea. And look! Lady Elizabeth is all cleaned up and in a fresh frock, and I hear her maid blaming the mess on overindulgence in sweets.” Sebastian began to lead Ciel towards the house. “But, the real matter at hand. Surely you know about the basics of sex.”

Ciel grimaced, then spoke as if reciting by rote. “When a man is titillated, his member becomes hard and enlarges, and if handled or given wet friction long enough, it emits seed, and then he becomes spent and sleepy. For which reason, physicians consider it harmful to carelessly spill seed.”

“Perhaps for an older man. A young man would have to spill nearly a dozen times in a day to risk exhaustion. Half the physicians writing monographs about spermatorrhea are simply deceitful moralizers, themselves the worst perverts.”

“Anyway, a boy is the same as a man, except too young to produce seed. And a woman is like an exceedingly infantile boy, only cleft where the sac would be.” Ciel grimaced again. “I assure you, I _know_ how.”

“Then do not worry yourself about this woman I am to look for. I will make inquiries, and you will only concern yourself with making ready for dinner.”

  


The courtesan’s flat was small but well-appointed, and the chairs were quite comfortable. The tea was not quite first-rate, but still very good, and better than what was usually given to servants.

“I am given to understand that your master is a man of particular tastes,” said Miss M, sipping delicately. “Rest assured that his secrets will be safe with me.”

“I am sure that they will be,” said Sebastian, calmly. “Neither he nor I have any tolerance for blackmail.”

“Of course not. What is he into? Whipping? Sodomy?”

“He is a young man, still figuring out his tastes. So far, he has discovered an affinity for coprophilia and, I think, a touch of sadism.” Sebastian paused, judging the woman’s reaction.

“Go on.”

“He would prefer you to take a purgative or perhaps retain an enema, and then, when you are overcome by nature, to relieve yourself in your clothing. I cannot say if he would want intercourse as well. He is yet a bit shy on that matter. Of course, a bath will be provided on the premises, and we can either launder the clothing ourselves or include extra compensation for the cleaning. If he is pleased, this may become a regular position.”

“Intriguing. Harmless enough. I accept.” She named a sum. “Half now, half after.”

Sebastian produced a sheaf of bills.

“I suppose you would be the one who suggested this course of action to the young man?” Miss M asked.

“Of course. I could not risk him attempting such a thing upon ladies of his own station. Best to nip the shame in the bud and show him that there are those who would willingly do such a thing for an appropriate consideration. And I had heard you were down a client.”

“That I was. So far he still writes, but India is a dangerous country and very far away.”

Sebastian was already rising. “I must convey your acceptance to my master, then. Thank you for the tea.”

  


A week later, Miss M discreetly journeyed to the Phantomhive manor via what to all appearances looked like a covered grocery wagon, the sort used to transport flour or grain in damp English weather. The apparent layers of burlap sacks and the dusting of flour were just a disguise. In fact, the sacks were not sacks at all, being just a few ruffles of burlap nailed to the walls of the real vehicle and stuffed with sawdust. On the inside, it was more like a hansom cab. Disembarking, Miss M was helped out of her conveyance by Sebastian and led through the servants’ entrance to a small drawing room. In it stood a boy in short trousers, looking out the window.

“The master awaits you,” whispered Sebastian.

“You told me he was young, but—how old is he?”

“He is nearly fourteen. A little slow in growing, but this is not his first time. Do not show him this apprehension.”

“I’m not a pederast,” muttered Miss M, but she stepped into the room. The boy was paying.

“Hello, Miss M,” said Ciel, turning to greet his visitor. “A pleasure to meet you.”

His voice was steady, and pitched where she could not tell whether it had changed yet or not. “Please, call me Marie,” she said.

“Parlez-vous Francais?”

“Un petite. My mother was French. I only know a little.” Miss M often wished she had paid more attention to her mother’s language. Men thought French was romantic.

“We will speak English, then. Sebastian, will you bring us tea?”

“Of course, young master.” Sebastian bowed and left.

“Chess?” Ciel asked.

Ciel’s tea, when it came, was excellent. Marie’s tasted strongly of milk of magnesia, which had been hidden in the “cream.” Hazard of the job. If Ciel Phantomhive became a regular client, she would have to negotiate taking the laxative in a different form, either with the boy himself, or with his butler, if drugged tea were an integral part of Ciel’s fantasy. She forced herself to keep drinking it, trying to swallow a sufficient dose. At this rate, she might piss herself before it took effect.

But at last, the cream pitcher was empty, and all there was left to do was a decorated cover on the waiting. Marie was glad she had thought to insert a suppository just before entering the drawing room, in the water closet Sebastian had shown her to. Quite a number of modern contrivances in this house. Hadn’t it been burnt and rebuilt a few years ago? Marie moved her pawn, in answer to Ciel’s; they had begun a new game of chess.

Soon her stomach began to rumble. She made an obvious show of grimacing and rubbing it.

“Are you well, my lady?” asked Ciel, with very well feigned concern.

“It is nothing—just a cramp.” She continued to play.

On the other side of the chess table, Ciel was rock-hard in his short pants. Watching Marie drink all the drugged tea, despite her poorly masked dislike of the taste, had been erotic in itself. Watching her groan and show discomfort as her stomach rebelled from it was sublime. It was taking forever, though. Perhaps next time she should take the purgative in advance, and the tea would have an emetic. Ciel leaned forward in his chair, rubbing himself against the seat.

A surge of pleasure rushed through him as he heard Marie break wind. Obviously she was nearing her limit. She was all but doubled over in her chair, and the chess game had nearly been abandoned. Suddenly, she stood.

“Forgive me, my lord, I must step away for a moment.”

“No, you do not,” said Ciel playfully, leaning back in his chair to watch. From that position, his small hardness was on full display.

Marie gripped her stomach with both hands. “My lord, I really must. I have to—oh no! It’s coming out!”

She turned her back to him and squatted, releasing her induced diarrhea. Brown streaked the skirt of her light summer dress, and filthy liquid pooled on the wooden floor beneath her as she loudly expelled her explosive, gassy load.

Ciel stroked himself through his pants, unable to stop. The smell was awful, but the sight more than made up for it. The erotic crisis surged through him, and then he fell back, gasping, still half-hard.

Marie had finished emptying herself, pissing on the floor as well. “My lord, I am so ashamed, dirtying myself like this!”

“Don’t be. I paid you to do it.” So the fantasy was over. Well, the good thing about youths and difficult jobs was that they were quick to finish it. “Thank you for indulging me. I will ring Sebastian. If you have not brought your own maid, I am sure he has found a suitable one to see to your bath.”

Marie found herself taken to a suite that was doubtless intended for household guests. And it had a lovely bathtub with its own water-boiler. Well, wasn’t that fancy!

  


Ciel woke in the middle of the night, heart racing, and rang for Sebastian.

The demon came in, carrying a candle. “What is it, young master?”

“I had a dream. About Marie.”

“Do you wish me to dismiss her from your service?”

“What? No. I am troubled. It was… _de Veneris_ , and I ought to be disgusted, not…”

“If I may be so bold, what could it be that is worse than what you did the other day?” Sebastian set the candle down on the night table.

Ciel frowned. “I dreamed that I was penetrating her in the rear as she relieved herself by that exit.”

Sebastian stroked Ciel’s hair. “Both the dream and the act will be fixed by a bath afterwards.”

“Why do I need a bath now?”

“You are at the age where boys often begin to emit seed.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“It will also help you go back to sleep. Come, now.”

Ciel let Sebastian pull back the covers and remove his nightshirt and drawers. The latter had a tiny wet spot on them, no more than a teardrop. (“You see?” said Sebastian.) The water-boiler was banked low, and Sebastian only had to add a little cool water from the pump before it was warm and relaxing. Soon Ciel was heat-pink and sleepy, and Sebastian was drying him with a thick towel.

“You have grown a few hairs in your lower regions,” said Sebastian, as he dressed Ciel in fresh drawers.

“I have?”

“Yes; look.” Only a few, to be sure, but there they were, dark in the candlelight. And then they were covered, and Ciel was tucked back into bed.

“Sebastian, why am I feeling desire when my body can’t even make seed yet?”

“How am I to know? I know many things, but I am not human.”

“You do have a member. I’ve seen it.”

“I do—because you expected me to be a man. This body was never a boy or a youth, and it does not age. Over the centuries, those I have been in contract with have usually given me a complete body, and often they have required me to use it carnally. But I am not a doctor, and even doctors know little of why. Perhaps it was that your body was awakened to such things too early, and so now it rouses itself again at the first stirrings of your carnal nature, where most boys’ bodies would slumber still.”

“I just wish my looks would catch up.”

“Your voice is already deeper than it was last year. I assure you, within a year, perhaps a little more, you will look a young man, not a boy. I believe you will be making seed before your next birthday.”

Ciel turned on his side. “Stay with me, Sebastian?”

“As you wish, young master.”

  


“I am glad he has become more sensible about the purgative, at least,” said Miss M, handing Sebastian her cape. It was a wet morning. Master Phantomhive had agreed to let her take a laxative that took longer to work but produced a much more dramatic effect when it did, meaning that she could take it as a pill, not in her tea. “But an emetic? Timing them together will be difficult.”

“Simply wait until you feel the purgative begin to work. Remind the young master then that he wanted to give you a special treat. Then, I will bring out the drugged petit four. You will eat it, and it will take effect at the same time as the purgative becomes urgent.”

“I will give it a try. I do hope this does not become too regular an occurrence, though. I dislike vomiting.”

As it happened, Marie had scarcely finished her first cup of tea before her stomach began to rumble and pressure filled her rear. She spoke the code word, and Sebastian brought her an artfully arranged plate. The little cake was cloyingly sweet; likely the emetic was ipecac.

A quarter of an hour passed. Marie began to feel nauseated. She forced herself to continue to drink tea, to make the eventual purging more dramatic. Her load was pressing against her exit now, and it took another force of will to keep it in. Ciel seemed well aware of her distress; he was flushed and leaning forward in his seat, and one hand seemed to be under the table.

“Shall we play indoor croquet?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

The boy certainly knew how to pick tortures well. Walking or vigorous exercise always stimulated the bowels.

Marie wanted nothing more than to use the privy and lie down with a chamber pot. “I would be delighted,” she managed.

She had planned to attempt to wait until a few turns into the game. Instead, standing up made her nausea too great to bear. She grabbed the table as the room spun and leaned forward, vomiting up everything she had just eaten and drunk. Remembering her role, she relaxed her ring after the first wave, deliberately shitting brown sludge into her drawers as she retched.

Ciel was also taken by surprise by this explosion. At first, he forgot to touch himself, simply marveling at the volume of fluid fountaing out of Marie’s mouth. As she continued to vomit, going to her hands and knees and bringing up a seemingly inhuman quantity of chunky liquid, his hand went to his crotch, timing his strokes with her heaving. A particularly pleasurable surge went through him as he noticed her skirts darkening behind. She was shitting and vomiting at the same time! The double expulsive act seemed like the purest, most cathartic act of ejaculation, putting to shame anything he would ever be able to accomplish with his penis, even as a grown man. Yet, he wanted to aspire to it, to claim that impossible ejaculation for his penis. Ciel stripped, clumsily, shrugging off his coat and fumbling with his suspender buttons. Sebastian was going to be annoyed with him later for this, and for anything he got on his stockings, which he wasn’t taking off, but he didn’t care. Ciel slipped behind Marie and pulled up her skirt, parted her drawers, even as she continued to shit and vomit in agonizing waves.

“Marie, may I...uh...pedicate you?” he asked.

Marie wracked through another wave of vomiting. “What?” she gasped, in a break between heaves.

Ciel flushed deep red. “Penetrate your anus.”

“Oh. Yes.” She vomited again, and the trickle of liquid shit briefly surged on its way out her exposed hole.

This was it. Ciel slid his small cock into the cleft of her buttocks, feeling the delicious slipperiness of her liquid feces. At her ring, there was a brief moment of resistance, and then Marie opened around him, and Ciel was inside her, passage eased by her lubricating diarrhea, surrounded by heat and liquid pressure.

He spent at once.

Ciel moaned, voice cracking, as his hips automatically thrust against Marie’s soiled buttocks, rubbing his flesh against the walls of her tight channel. Her arse squeezed him as she vomited again, and he saw stars, the pleasure so great it was almost painful, and he felt that this was where he was meant to be, this was what his life was really for, and he never wanted that sensation to end.

Of course, eventually, end it did. Ciel softened and slipped out, his knees wobbly, and found himself sitting on the floor, naked but for stockings and shoes, while Marie continued to purge herself. He really should call for Sebastian. Just as soon as he could feel his legs. Right.

Marie’s stomach eventually reached an uneasy peace, and she turned to find Ciel asleep on the floor, doubtless in reaction to what had sounded like an extraordinary climax. He probably hadn’t ever sodomized anyone before. He was strange, this boy; so certain of what he wanted, and yet so obviously inexperienced as well—and then, at times, obviously experienced in a limited way. Someone had corrupted him, obviously. Possibly his manservant? No, then Sebastian would almost certainly have been too jealous to hire her. Maybe a tutor or a nursemaid.

But she was sitting in her own mess, and now that Ciel was obviously satisfied, there was no reason for her to be. Marie rang for Sebastian.

  


Neither Marie nor Sebastian was particularly surprised when Ciel became perhaps the youngest English noble ever to take a dedicated mistress. Marie was given a room in the house; ostensibly, she was his dancing mistress. She also got a generous monthly allowance. This was not contingent on any number of times servicing Ciel; rather, it was until one or both of them decided to end the arrangement. If she didn’t spend her whole allowance, she was allowed to save the remainder. Marie was thrilled; it was considerably more equitable than most of her previous arrangements. No more having to buy jewels or furnishings solely for their resale value rather than for her own tastes. (Indeed, she suspected that if it were not for Ciel’s youth and their relative stations, he might have proposed marriage. She was glad that he hadn’t. Refusing him would have put a strain on the relationship, which she was content with in its current state.) Having to purge oneself several times a week was unpleasant, but at least she wouldn’t need to watch her figure. Given his age, she suspected that he would want less staged pleasures most of the time, anyway, especially once he came into full adolescence. It would be an interesting task, to make this boy into a man. Doubtless he’d have a wife someday, and she did not grudge it. No, she would teach him how to pleasure a woman as he took pleasure in her. Yes, an interesting task.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please comment, and check out my [my discord server](https://discord.gg/dmBBpHK)!


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